Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I should have let her fall.
Should have eaten her the moment my mind tricks didn’t work.
Should have done anything but lead her into my castle.
Too late now. I strode in and grabbed one of the robes I kept hanging on hooks by the door.
I wrapped it around me and tied the sash before glancing at Davina.
That’s when I felt a jolt, for I finally gazed upon her as a man—not as a dragon—and in person—not through the grainy footage from my doorbell camera.
Damned if the sight of her didn’t pack a punch. It shouldn’t have, though.
She stood average height, about five foot six or seven, with a curvy shape.
Well-rounded hips and a bust that strained her thick sweater.
Her hair, pulled back into a tail, was more auburn than brown, and freckles speckled her pale skin.
Even without the slight accent, I’d have pegged her as Scottish.
Rather than stare at me, she glanced around with curiosity before trailing her fingers over the wooden trim framing the door. “You’re restoring the molding,” she murmured.
“I’m trying to keep as much of the original bones as I can, but will have to replace sections where the rot and damage have gotten too bad.”
“In the village, they said you were doing the work yourself.”
“Yup.”
“Wouldn’t it be quicker to hire someone?”
“Quicker, yes, but expensive, given the quality I expect. Besides, I enjoy this kind of thing.”
“But it will take you a decade or more to complete,” she pointed out.
“Yup.”
She slewed her gaze my way. “Not pressed for time?”
“What do you think?”
As she turned from the woodwork, she perused me with a crease between her brows. “You’re definitely not as big as I would have expected.” A comment that almost earned a snort.
“Would you like me to step on a scale so you can check my weight?”
“Would you?” she exclaimed, clasping her hands.
“No.”
“Tease.” She turned from me and wandered from the kitchen into the next room.
Rude. She could have at least requested permission.
“Be careful. I’ve still got areas that need fixing,” I snapped.
“How much of the castle have you renovated?” She reappeared in the archway.
“Not much. Kitchen was my first priority, followed by a washroom.”
“Dragons cook their food?”
“No, but this man does.”
“So you don’t eat as a dragon?”
“I didn’t say that, and let me make it clear. I didn’t let you inside so you could pester me with questions.”
“What else would we talk about, though?”
I cast about for something, anything, and emerged with, “Nothing.”
For some reason, she laughed. “Don’t be silly. There’s no harm in talking.”
“Yes, there is. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.”
“In a storm? I don’t think so, not to mention, I’ve not accomplished what I came to do.”
“Ah, yes, the Jacobite Gold.”
“You really read my emails.”
“I did, and you’re mistaken. The treasure isn’t here. Isn’t it theorized to be hidden somewhere in the Highlands?”
“That’s what everyone says, and yet, I found a letter written to George Bullough, the previous owner of this castle.”
“And?”
“And in a letter penned by someone named Finlay Stewart, he asks if George is going to spend his found fortune.”
“Don’t you think if Bullough had access to the gold, he’d have kept this place in better repair?”
“Could be he feared spending it, as the coins are quite distinctive.”
“Not if melted down.”
Her mouth rounded. “What a terrible thing to say.”
“Historians and your attachment to old things,” I scoffed.
“There’s nothing wrong with being interested in and wanting to preserve our past.”
“I’d be more impressed if people learned from it.”
“Speaking of learning, how come our Scottish legends don’t mention any dragons on the isle, or the mainland for that matter?”
“Not a very good historian, are you? Or have you forgotten the beithir?” I used the Gaelic word for dragon.
“The beithir are snakelike creatures with no wings. You most definitely have wings.”
“What of the Beast of the Black Firs, also known as the Highland Dragon?”
“That particular story came about because of the Vikings who burned large swaths of forest. Rather than blame the invaders, the superstitious folks of the time created an imaginary dragon.”
While I would have liked to argue, she was actually correct. There’d been no dragon, as I didn’t relocate here until much later. “Ever thought I’m just good at hiding?”
“You’re the size of a house. I find that hard to believe. And you weren’t exactly discreet when you saved me. Anyone coming up the path could have seen you.”
“No one was near enough to spot me, and before you ask, I would have known. Given the direction of the breeze, I’d have scented them.” Unlike the Red Cap, who’d stayed downwind and avoided notice.
“Your sense of smell is that good?” Her lips twisted. “Here’s to hoping my antiperspirant hasn’t given up yet.”
“You’re fine.” More than fine. Her aroma made me hunger—and not for food.
“You’re not Scottish,” she pointed out next.
This woman just couldn’t stop talking, and for some reason, I kept replying. “What makes you say that?”
“No accent, for one.”
“I was educated abroad.”
“You have a Mediterranean look about you.”
“My skin is tan from being outside a lot. As for my hair, not all Scots have red locks.”
She hit me from a different angle. “How old are you?”
“How old are you?” I countered.
“Thirty-nine.”
A lady of mature age, past most childish tendencies.
“Well?” She planted a hand on her hip.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I murmured, having lived more human lifetimes than their minds could grasp.
“You didn’t inherit your name or fortune from your father, or his father before him, did you?” Before I could reply, she kept going. “You’ve been playing a game of pretend, where every so often you reinvent yourself as an heir to ensure nobody notices a man who should be dead is very much alive.”
“You researched me.”
“I wanted to know who I would be dealing with. Not that I discovered much. You lead a very private life.”
“With good reason, don’t you think?”
“Is it easy to become the dragon?”
Once more she flitted to a new subject, and my dumb ass answered. “Like breathing in.”
“It has to be magic,” she mused aloud, more for her own benefit than mine, I suspected.
“Magic is the catch-all term for things scientists have yet to explain.”
For some reason, my statement made her smile. “Indeed, it is. Have you ever allowed yourself to be studied by a scientist or doctor?”
“Why?”
“To find out the truth.”
“The truth is I’m a dragon with a rare ability to switch shapes, and quite honestly, I don’t care how my metamorphosis works.”
“Do you have other abilities? Can you breathe fire? You can obviously fly.”
“Fire breath isn’t one of my gifts.”
“But talking inside people’s heads is.”
“It’s a skill that comes with age.”
“Are there other dragons?”
Should I lie? What would be the point now? She already knew too much. What was a bit more? “There are.”
“Really? Where?”
“Around the world.” Before she could ask their locations—and my dumb ass could spill any more secrets—I diverted her attention. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see what I can cobble together then.” I led the way to the kitchen, and the interrogation continued.
“Why don’t you want me looking for the gold?”
“You want a list? I don’t want a stranger traipsing through the castle, not only because it’s my home, but because there’s areas of it that might be dangerous.
Add to that, I don’t want anyone wrecking anything I hoped to preserve.
Secondly, as I already mentioned, if Bullough had a treasure, pretty sure he would have used it and not left it hidden here while he went destitute.
Three, let’s say I somehow missed it, which I’ll add is highly unlikely, I have no interest in the government suddenly deciding to renege on their deal with me, not to mention, they’d likely take this place apart brick by brick to see what else might be hiding. ”
For a moment, she remained quiet. It didn’t last.
“Don’t dragons have hoards? How do I know you’re not lying about the treasure so you can keep it for yourself?”
I sighed. “I do have a hoard, large enough I have no need for the paltry amount of gold the lost treasure would bring. On top of what I keep in my vault, which, by the way, you’ll never see”—because I’d hidden it well in an area no one but me, or technically another dragon, could access—“I’ve got enough invested wealth with the banks that I could spend a fortune every day and barely dent it. ”
“Wow. How is it you’re that rich but not on any of those lists?”
“What lists?”
“The ones indicating who the richest men and women in the world are?”
I snorted. “Because only a moron would keep all his wealth under one name, and the banks I use are discreet.”
“And obviously don’t know who they’re truly dealing with.”
“No shit.” I leaned against the kitchen counter, the top of it a butcher block that I’d hand-sanded, treated, oiled, and babied to perfection. “Speaking of discreet, short of killing you, what will it take to keep your mouth shut? Ten million? Twenty million pounds?”
“Much as it would be lovely to be rich, I didn’t come here for your money.”
“Just gold.”
“Not to keep,” she huffed. “I wanted to find it, as I thought it might be helpful when it came to marketing my book. After all, what’s the point of writing about lost treasures if you can’t excite your readers by having actually found at least one?”
“So you won’t be bribed. Guess that’s your way of saying I need to toss you over that cliff.”
“Of course not, and don’t be such a teaser.” She laughed, obviously not taking me seriously.
“Do I look like I have a sense of humor?” was my dry reply.
“Yes, albeit I sense it might be dark.”
Who was this woman who refused to back down or be intimidated and who’d pegged me so quickly and accurately?
“What will it take to keep my secret?” I almost barked rather than fall for her charm.
“Help me find the Jacobite Gold.”
“I already told you it’s not in this castle, and before you bombard me with a million questions asking how I’m sure, I would have smelled it by now.”
“Smelled gold?” Said with a dubious note.
“I’ve dealt with it enough I know its scent.”
“What if it was buried or bricked away?”
“It might be muffled,” I grudgingly admitted. “And before you ask, I am not smashing any walls looking.” I might have said more, but the kitchen door suddenly opened, the gusting wind and rain slamming it against the wall.
Don’t tell me the Red Cap dared? Did I need to grab a knife from the butcher block? The tension in me eased as Astaria strode in, naked but for her long hair, the wet strands plastered to her like a sheet.
Davina ogled her. I didn’t. Not only did I see Astaria as a sister—the pesky kind—she preferred her lovers to be of the feminine variety. So did I. Given our preferences, I expected Astaria to give Davina the once-over. What surprised? How I didn’t like it one bit.
Mine.
Uh-oh. Rather than deal with the oddly possessive feeling, I barked, “Astaria, close the door, please, and put on a robe. We have a guest.”
“I know. Why do you think I came?” she said in a melodic voice. Astaria shut the portal and snared one of the spare robes.
“I didn’t realize you were married,” Davina murmured.
“Us, a couple?” Astaria didn’t have to laugh so hard. “Oh goodness no. We’re just acquaintances. I’m Astaria.” She held out her hand, and Davina shook it.
“Davina Campbell. I’m a professor at the University of Aberdeen.”
“I know. You’re looking for the Jacobite Gold. You won’t find it here in the castle, but rather in a faraway loch.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I’ve seen it.”
“In person?”
Astaria shook her head. “No.”
“Then how can you be sure of its location?”
I jumped in before Astaria could. “Astaria is rarely wrong.”
“Rarely? Really now, Ali, name one time I haven’t been right,” Astaria demanded.
I couldn’t.
“How did the gold get to this loch? Rumor has it in the Highlands, but a letter I discovered hinted it was at Kinloch Castle.” Davina started her interrogation, but this time, Astaria was her focus.
“You are correct. It was here for a time, but Bullough made a deal. His life in exchange for the treasure.”
“Someone threatened him?” Davina’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see mention of that in any history texts.”
“The Red Caps weren’t happy he built the castle here. Although, they did enjoy the taste of some of his guests. They came for Bullough one night, and he begged for them to not kill him. They agreed to leave him alone in exchange for the gold.”
“If the Red Caps took it, then how did it end up in a distant loch?” Davina questioned as I began drumming my fingers, not liking where this was going. Astaria kept ignoring my warning glares.
“Their mistress likes pretty things. Which reminds me… Word is she isn’t happy you eradicated her pets from the isle.” Astaria directed the last part at me.
My lips pinched. “Too bad. The isle is mine now.”
“You know, instead of killing all the Red Caps, you could have had them switch their allegiance to you,” Astaria suggested.
“I don’t need monsters at my beck and call.” Perish the thought. I even eschewed human servants.
“You have none, and meanwhile, this past decade, she’s been accumulating a veritable army of them. I’ve yet to see, and can’t help a sense of trepidation, as I wonder what she’s planning,” Astaria mused aloud.
Nothing good, I’d wager.
Davina’s gaze bounced between us. “I’m sensing there’s something here I should know that will make sense of everything. I don’t suppose either of you will clue me in?”
I barked a quick, “No!” But Astaria smiled and said, “In case you hadn’t guessed by my lack of attire when I arrived, I’m a selkie who can see bits and pieces of the future, as can my sister, Fiona, who is companion to—”
“Don’t you dare say it!” I warned, to no avail.
“Nessie.”